


later

by scandalous



Series: Kinktober 2019 [18]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Complicated Relationships, Conflicted Will Graham, Cunnilingus, Cutting, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Knifeplay, M/M, Ownership, Season/Series 02, Sub Will Graham, Trans Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: Hannibal cuts his initials into Will.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Kinktober 2019 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1502783
Comments: 2
Kudos: 131
Collections: Kinktober 2019, Prompt Table Challenge: Sexy and Kinky, Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	later

**Author's Note:**

> **sexy and kinky @ creativechallenges:** knowing it's wrong but doing it anyway  
>  **trope bingo:** forbidden fruit  
>  **trans bingo:** conflicting obligations / oaths  
>  **kinktober:** day 18 - blood
> 
> first pornfic for hannibal and its this absolute mess.
> 
> enjoy!

"Do you trust me with this?" Hannibal asks, holding up a perfectly sterilized knife. It's sharp, glinting against the moonlight from the window in Hannibal's huge bedroom.

In the back of his head, Will tries to see how he'll frame this if he ever has to bring it up to Jack.  _ I agreed just to see what he'd do, _ he thinks.  _ I was curious what would happen. _ The ironic echo nearly makes him roll his eyes, but he keeps himself in check. In reality, he's just doing this because he wants to. Because he wants to have fun with Hannibal. Because he  _ likes _ him.

"I'd like to think so," he says, looking up at him.

"That's a no," he says. "But I will not harm you any more than you wish to be harmed."

He swallows at that. He does like to be harmed— his masochistic streak has been obvious for ages to him, and considering the way Hannibal reads him like an open book, it probably has been obvious to him since the day they met. The thought makes a shiver curl up his spine.

"I sure hope so," he agrees.

"Do you want to be cut mindlessly?" Hannibal asks, reaching closer to him, grazing the knife against his chest, not quite enough to prick the skin but enough to feel it. He looks at him, at how his free hand goes down to touch his top surgery scars for a few seconds, teasing at the sensitive, healing skin before pulling away. "Or would you like to give it meaning?"

"I'd prefer something meaningful," he says.

He shouldn't be doing this right now. He really should  _ not _ . But he doesn't care, because Hannibal is going to have his way with him and that's all that matters right now. Maybe Jack will be able to tell something changed, maybe he'll reveal all he's done because of it. Right now, that can be filed for later. Right now, all he wants is for Hannibal to use him.

"Like what, Will?" he asks, voice even.

He closes his eyes. "I think your initials are… pretty good. HL. They sound nice."

He doesn't open his eyes, as much as he'd like to gauge Hannibal's reaction. He remains silent for several seconds, before saying, "You want me to brand you, Will? Is that what this is?"

"Yes," he replies.

"How do I know this is not a ploy for the FBI?"

He smiles. "You can't."

Hannibal pulls him in for a kiss. "That's true, unfortunately. I'm sure that even if it is a ploy, I can still get some enjoyment out of you."

"You sure can," he replies.

"Well, then," he starts, "let me get some enjoyment out of you." He pauses, examines Will's bare torso. "Where would you like it?"

"The inside of my thigh, maybe?" 

Hannibal grins. "That's one of the most painful spots you could've picked, Will. I see you're as masochistic as they come." 

"Maybe I am."

"Well, then," he says, "Lay on your back, and spread your legs. Would you like me to tease you as I do this? Because otherwise, you might have to put your boxers back on. Your entrance is far too tempting."

Will tries not to look too thrilled by that comment and fails— he doesn't put his boxers back on. He settles on his back, elbows to the bed for support so he can watch as Hannibal does his thing, his legs spread, with his right dangling off the bed.

Hannibal gets a seat and leans close to his leg, sterilizing it before doing anything. He cares, deep down, he does. He can tell. 

The incisions are surgical, straight out of a Chesapeake Ripper murder, but far less deep. He digs the knife deep enough to leave a long-lasting scar, a straight line right down his inner thigh.

"Fuck," he breathes at the sensation, yelping as he goes slack against the bed. With his free hand, Hannibal reaches up and teases his t-dick, rubbing against it. He whimpers loudly at that, shuddering. 

"Hannibal," he breathes.

"Shh," he shushes, making a quick incision, a horizontal line, before doing the last one of the  _ H. _ He's tortuous about it, slow and methodical, his free hand both keeping him more or less in place and teasing his dick, rubbing against it without any mercy for his mewls and moans.

The way blood drips down his inner thigh doesn't help. As he goes and starts up the  _ L, _ he can't help but be more and more aroused as Hannibal marks him up with a sharp, sharp knife. It could be oh so easy for him to kill him now, but he doesn't. He trusts him not to. They've grown too dependent on each other for him to just discard him.

_ HL. _ Hannibal Lecter. He is branded, marked, owned, now.

He should feel guilty, maybe. He should wonder what would Jack say, what would Jack say if he found out about their continuous rendezvous. But right now, amidst the little pain high he knows so well, he knows he's not going to wonder that any time soon.

There's a pool of blood, soaking the towels they laid down, but not enough to soak  _ through _ and onto the bedsheets. Hannibal would kill him if that happened, probably.

"You were very good," Hannibal praises, and he loves to hear that. It sounds nice. It sounds truthful. 

"Thank you," he breathes. 

Hannibal, without being asked, leans down and starts licking at his wounds. He lets out a yelp in surprise, but his hips buck up involuntarily as Hannibal takes care of the blood. When he's stopped bleeding, he leans up and kisses him.

He tastes his own blood, metallic, against Hannibal's teeth. He lets out a shaky breath and grabs at him as he kisses him, desperate and needy and wanton. He wants him, he wants him— he can deal with all that comes afterward later. Right now, all he wants is to be owned and to be controlled by the man who has consistently ruined his life.

He doesn't care.

"Fuck," he breathes into Hannibal's mouth. "Hannibal.  _ Please _ …"

"You've been a perfectly well behaved boy," he says, threading his fingers through his hair, "I think it's about time I reward you for it."

"Are you not going to clean up the towel?" he asks, looking at him, as much as he'd like to beg and beg for relief.

"Later," he says.

That's their mantra, as Hannibal gets down in a better position and starts eating him out with a hunger he imagines drives his killings. He cries out and grabs onto Hannibal's hair, desperately, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

He can think about the implications of his actions in the nebulous time of  _ later. _


End file.
